Read our current issue by clicking on the cover below. Read Light‘s poems of the week
by Alex Steelsmith
Amy J. Klobuchar,
aiming at Donald, her
kept her composure and
by Julia Griffin
“Daily Beast reporters say Reince Priebus was repeatedly asked about [badgers by President Trump] during briefings on healthcare and foreign policy
“Are they mean to people?” Trump reportedly asked Priebus… . “Or are they friendly creatures?”
Are badgers mean to people? That depends.
Or are they friendly creatures? They have friends.
Have they a personality? For sure,
Though you, perhaps, may reckon it a bore.
What do they do? They hang out in their setts,
And no, they’re bad with existential threats.
These are the answers that the Chief of Staff
May have produced, on everyone’s behalf,
To redirect the Presidential thought
To subjects more immediately fraught:
Tax, immigration, guns, a healthcare plan,
The legislature, and Afghanistan.
by Dan Campion
“No One Can Explain Why Planes Stay In The Air”
—Headline in Scientific American
Now they tell us, while we cruise
At thirty thousand feet,
Perusing online sports and news
From arts to science beat,
That no one knows what keeps us up?
That’s weird, but do we care,
A double whiskey in our cup?
We trust in wing and prayer.
by Nina Parmenter
The UK has already lost its measles-free status, thanks to a discredited study which linked the MMR vaccine to autism. Now a rise in cases of mumps has been reported.
How do we catch the measles,
and how do we catch the mumps?
Surprise, surprise, it’s the spread of lies
that literally leaves us with lumps.
Autism’s in the wiring,
but nonsense is in the ether,
and Claire is in intensive care
with a fiercely spiking fever.
Do viruses hold with hokum?
No, they squat in our bodies and laugh
at our ignorant art of tearing apart
the one thing that stands in their path.
Science is in a needle,
but venom is in a tweet,
and Claire? Well she’s in a mortuary
with tags upon her feet.
by Julia Griffin
“Virtuoso mourns beloved £150,000 piano smashed by movers
In a Facebook post [Angela] Hewitt said … “I hope my piano will be happy in piano heaven.”
Alas, poor Fazioli! It had given such delight
Before a clumsy mover somehow dropped it from a height
And smashed its innards, fashioned though they were of tempered steel.
It’s painful just to think how its accompanist must feel;
And yet she found the grace to think beyond the pair they were,
And hope it would be happy in a place not made for her.
When such a harmony exists, I think we can be sure
That in both partners equally devotion will endure;
An instrument so finely tuned is not a senseless thing,
But echoes its companion’s love with every silent string.
It stands aloof in Heaven while the blessed vainly bid:
The angels want to play it, but it simply shakes its lid;
It’s waiting for the final reconvergence of the twain,
To sound that Pi-Angelic chord that won’t be lost again.